Nekropolis

TWENTY-FOUR

I walked down the steps into Gregor’s basement, my flashlight on high this time. I half expected him not to be there, but he was, crouching against the wall in his usual position, masses of his children-more than normal, I thought-all around him, covering the walls, floor, and ceiling. The ones scuttling across the floor remained outside my flashlight beam, but only just.

“Hello, Matthew,” Gregor said.

“You don’t seem very surprised to see me alive, or at least my version of alive. But then you wouldn’t be, would you? We never did find the child of yours which Devona carried in her head. She thought it had somehow been destroyed by her proximity to the light of the Dawnstone. But it really escaped while Devona was half unconscious with pain and came back here to report to you, didn’t it?”

“Getting into the Nightspire is one thing,” Gregor said. “Getting out another. Your surmise is correct.”

“Why’d you implant it in her? As a sort of fail-safe device?”

“As a precaution, in case either of you came too close to interfering with the plan. We would have tried to manipulate you into hosting one of us, Matthew, but we knew you would never agree to it.”

“You were right. Speaking of people being right, I’m still shocked that crazy Carl actually reported a legitimate story.”

“Even a lunatic is occasionally correct,” Gregor said.

“That’s what you are, isn’t it? One of the Watchers from Outside…meaning outside the city.”

“Yes, but despite our pose as Gregor, it is incorrect to refer to use as separate individuals. We are One.”

“That’s what I saw back in the Cathedral, when I looked out the window over the Null Plains and viewed what I took to be shifting waves of darkness. It was really millions upon millions of bugs, wasn’t it? Millions of bits and pieces of you.”

Gregor, or at least the part of the Watchers’ group mind that appeared to be Gregor, nodded.

I became aware of insects gathering quietly around us. I had no doubt that if I turned to look, I’d find the entrance to the stairs blocked. But I continued talking.

“You know, I always wondered just what species you were. You didn’t seem like any other being in Nekropolis. Now I know why.”

“This dimension is our home, and has been for more years than your birth planet has existed. When Dis and the Darklords first entered this dimension and created Nekropolis, we had no idea what had happened, for as One we had no concept of otherness. No concept of invasion. But we learned. We entered the city, tunneling beneath the flaming barrier of Phlegethon, and we spread throughout Nekropolis. It took over fifty of your years before we began to understand what had taken place, understand that others had come to our home, had stolen part of it and claimed it as their own. We became determined to do what anyone from your world would do in similar circumstances: repel the invaders and reclaim what was ours.

“We merely observed for the next century, learning as much as we could about Nekropolis and its denizens, their strengths and weaknesses, desires and fears, wants and needs. And when we felt we had learned enough, we decided it was time to begin. We created the guise of Gregor and began trading information. Not because we needed it; we collected more than enough on our own. But because we wished to make contacts with others that would be able to serve us. This is why we aided you over the last two years, Matthew, in the hope that we might eventually find a way to use you. Unfortunately for us, you proved adept at resisting manipulation.

“As the years passed, we slowly, cautiously began to shape the course of events in Nekropolis. Through our agents, we helped foment dissent between the Darklords, founded the Dominari and the Hidden Light, established street gangs, encouraged the growth of crime on all levels. We worked especially hard to make sure the Darklords did not cut off all contact with Earth. We wanted not only to make certain the Others had a way to leave our dimension, but that the developing technology from their former homeworld would continue to flow into the city to provide us more tools to fight with. And for the next two centuries, we gathered information, made contacts, manipulated, plotted, and schemed. And finally we saw our opportunity.”

“The Dawnstone,” I said.

“Gregor” nodded. “We have worked hard the last dozen or so years aiding the development of various thaumaturgically enhanced drugs such as tangleglow and mind dust. But when one of our agents created veinburn, a drug so powerful it would prove addictive even to the strongest of supernatural beings, we realized its awesome potential. As Gregor, we made arrangements with the Dominari to begin producing veinburn in limited quantities-”

“And made sure Morfran, who was the supplier to a bloodson of a Darklord, distributed it.”

“Yes. Varma, indolent pleasure-seeker that he was, eagerly sampled Morfran’s new product. And from that moment on, he was ours. By threatening to cut off his supply of veinburn, we convinced Varma to cooperate with us. He told us anything we wanted to know, all the secrets of his father that he was privy to. Including the contents of his vaunted Collection. And we learned of the Dawnstone.

“We had acquired much mystical knowledge over the last few centuries, and were instantly aware of the potential a crystal that produced actual sunlight would have here in a city of darkness. The Renewal Ceremony was fast approaching, and we realized it would be the perfect time to strike, for if Dis and the Darklords could not revitalize Umbriel-the power source which actually maintains the existence of Nekropolis within this dimension-the city would be destroyed and we would finally have gotten rid of the hated Others.”

“So you had Varma steal the Dawnstone. After using your magical know-how to make sure his aura matched his father’s so that he could get past Galm’s wardspells.”

The insects were all around me now; I was surrounded by solid walls of them. Only the illumination of my flashlight protected me. Still, I did nothing.

Gregor went on. “Varma delivered the Dawnstone, and we resumed his supply of veinburn. We saw no need to slay him at that time; there was no chance he would report his crime to Lord Galm, and we did not wish to draw any undue attention to the theft of the Dawnstone. Eventually, of course, it became necessary to have him killed in order to keep him from talking to you. He was a pathetic, weak creature, and would have told you everything with little prompting on your part.

“We had previously managed to implant some pieces of ourself into one of Dis’s Sentinels, and we realized we could use it to ferry the Dawnstone into the Nightspire and then, once inside, use it to attack Dis and disrupt the Renewal Ceremony.”

“So you stuck the Dawnstone inside the Sentinel, and waited for it to be recalled for the Ceremony. Tell me, why did you leave a scar on the Sentinel, even a faint one?”

“Our mystic knowledge, gleaned as it has been in scattered fragments over the centuries, is less than complete. The spells Dis used to create the Sentinels were unfamiliar to us, and we could only partially heal the golem’s flesh. We had no choice but to go forward with the plan and hope no one would notice.”

“I should have known it was you all along, Gregor. One of your children was on the wall listening when I first spoke with Devona. You were the only being in the city besides the two of us who knew we were investigating the theft of the Dawnstone, the only one who could have sent the Red Tide vampires to kill us after we left the Great Library.”

“We knew you, Matthew. You wouldn’t let go of this until you saw it through to the end, one way or another. You had to be stopped. Ms. Kanti was of lesser importance. If she had been been killed, it would have been solely due to her association with you.”

“How did you manipulate the Red Tide members?”

“They were pathetically simple-minded creatures. To secure their services, we had only to promise them unlimited access to whatever technology they wished. They were no different than Varma, in that regard. They cared only for seeing their lusts fulfilled. Vampires’ need for blood tends to make them highly addictive personalities in other regards.”

“Thanks for the psychology lesson.” The insects were only inches away from me now, and edging closer all the time. “I suppose you were behind all the attempts on our lives?”

“Most of them. Through various agents, we made sure Thokk knew you were in the Broken Cross, and that Talaith was aware of your passage through her realm. And of course, we made certain the Red Tide vampires were waiting for you after you left here. We also had the Dominari order Yberio and Skully to kill you. Unfortunately, the warlock proved too weak for the task, and Skully prized your friendship more than he feared his masters.”

“And the insect we saw in the alley?”

“An error. It was one which we had implanted in Varma in order to keep track of him. The sheer amount of veinburn the Red Tide vampires injected into Varma was enough to affect the child, and slow its escape long enough for you to see it.”

The writhing, softly chittering wall of darkness that surrounded my back and sides was only an inch away now. I knew if I swept my flashlight beam around, they would scurry off. But I kept the light shining at my feet. I wanted to lure as many of them into the basement as possible.

“I understand why you misled us into thinking Talaith might be behind the Dawnstone’s theft; you wanted to draw attention away from yourself. But why did you tell us the truth about Morfran being a veinburn supplier?”

“Because the best lies are those mixed with some truth. And if the Red Tide vampires failed to kill you, we hoped that Morfran would lead you to Skully, who would finish you off. A hope that was in vain, as it turned out. It is a shame our plan failed, but we are nothing if not patient. We came close this time, and we shall succeed the next, whether it be tomorrow or a hundred years from now.”

“I’m glad to see you’re maintaining an optimistic outlook.”

“We would have succeeded if not for you, Matthew. You have a fine, incisive mind and excellent instincts. Join us; help us free our home from the scourge of Others which infests it.”

“Help you?” I said incredulously. “After everything that’s happened, everything you’ve done, how can you even ask such a thing?”

“Because I have something to offer you, Matthew. I can make you mortal again.”

“You’re lying.”

“The child Ms. Kanti hosted remained hidden in the Nightspire long enough to witness the Renewal Ceremony completed and Dis reward you for saving his city by removing your spirit from the Sentinel and restoring your body to you. But he didn’t return you fully to life, did he?”

“He said it was beyond his power, that I had been a zombie too long to make me human again.”

“Perhaps it is beyond the capabilities of Dis, but it is not beyond ours. Remember what you said when I asked you how you felt about being a zombie? You said you were a freak, trapped in a body that was little more than a numb piece of meat. Cut off from the world around you, on the outside of life. A pale memory of the man who was once Matthew Richter. We can end your suffering, Matthew. Help us destroy the invaders and we shall make you live again.”

I didn’t respond.

“Surely you have no love for this city or its inhabitants. Your kind regard them as monsters: unnatural, unholy things. You would be doing creation a favor by helping us destroy them.”

“After nearly two years as a walking dead man, it’s hard to see others as monsters, Gregor.”

“Then consider it justice. This is our home; the Others are trespassers. They have no right to live in this dimension, no right to befoul it with their obscene otherness. Help us be rid of them, and we shall make you a man once more and use one of the Darklords’ portals to return you to Earth. Perhaps you will not be able to resume your life where you left off, but at least you may begin a new one.”

“Sorry, Gregor, but I can’t do that. Maybe Dis and the Darklords shouldn’t have built Nekropolis here, but they did, and you didn’t protest.”

“We did not understand! We knew nothing of otherness then! We did not know there were Others to protest to!”

“Even so, the city and its people have been here for almost four centuries. Isn’t it time you learned to coexist with them?”

“Impossible! Otherness can not be tolerated!”

“Then there’s nothing I can do for you, Gregor. I won’t help you. In fact, I’ll do everything I can to stop you.”

“You’ll do nothing. It’s a pity you won’t join us, but that is your decision. You were foolish to come here alone, Matthew. We destroyed your body once, and we shall do so again-and this time there is no one to restore you. And don’t think your flashlight will protect you. While we are creatures of this dark dimension and light does hurt us, there are far too many of us for your feeble beam to kill.”

“I don’t intend to use my flashlight. And you’re wrong, Gregor. I didn’t come alone.” I clicked off the light and was plunged into darkness.

No insects swarmed over me as in the Nightspire. Instead, there was a rushing, moaning sound that made me think of a cold winter wind blowing across a bloodsoaked battlefield. And then I heard the screaming of thousands upon thousands of tiny voices, the same as when I had shone the Dawnstone into the Sentinel’s chest cavity, only multiplied to the nth degree.

And then there was silence. I waited a few moments more, and then I turned the flashlight back on. Its beam revealed Father Dis, standing alone in the now empty basement.

“Are they all gone?” I asked. I was grateful my flashlight had been turned off. I had no idea how Dis had destroyed the insects, and from the horrible sounds they had made while dying, I was certain I wanted to remain ignorant.

“All that were present at this location. I fear many more remain within the city, however, and even if none do, there are uncountable millions more outside Phlegethon’s boundaries. I seriously doubt we’ve heard the last of the Watchers.” He sighed. “I was of course aware of them when I led my people to this dimension, but I thought them some sort of native animal life. I never realized they were intelligent. If I had…well, it’s too late now, isn’t it?”

“Can’t you do something? Like wave your hand in a godly gesture of omnipotence and smite them?”

Dis smiled. “As I told you when I restored you, there are limits to even my powers. The vast majority of my strength is used to maintain Umbriel and Phlegethon. The Darklords help, of course, but far less than even they imagine. Still, there’s no use in letting them know that; everyone likes to feel they’re important, don’t they?”

“So you were telling the truth when you said you couldn’t make me alive again?”

Dis nodded. “Though I was able to see to it that you are in no danger of inevitably decomposing again, provided of course you keep up regular applications of preservative spells. Barring accidents, you might very well exist forever.”

Forever. The word had no meaning to me now. I wondered if it ever would. I figured I’d find out.

I showed Dis the underside of my hand. “My little finger grew back when you restored me, but I still have Edrigu’s mark.”

“Edrigu had a previous claim on you which I can do nothing about. Be careful what deals you make in Nekropolis, Matthew. They are always binding.”

“I figured you’d say something like that. One more thing: back at the Nightspire, that mural in the corridor…”

“Yes?”

“The first scene depicted shadow creatures emerging from a swamp. Those things were the beginning of the Darkfolk, weren’t they?”

“The Shadowings,” Dis said. “There were indeed the progenitors of all of my kind that would follow. That was our only form for millions of years until humans began to evolve. Their dreams changed us, molded us, until we became dark reflections of their worst fears. Creatures that drank blood, changed into animals, worked black magic, and survived beyond death-all because humans imagined it so.” Dis smiled. “So you see, Matthew, the Darkfolk really are your people’s nightmares.” But his smile quickly faded. “But the humans outgrew us, came to hate us and desire our destruction. Perhaps because we reminded them of the darkest parts of themselves.”

“Maybe,” I said. “But eating them might’ve had something to do with it too.”

A hint of Dis’s smile returned. “Possibly.”

“When you and I first met, you allowed me to glimpse the true darkness that lies behind Father Dis. That darkness is what you really are, isn’t it? You’re one of the first Darkfolk-a Shadowing. One that’s never changed for all these millions of years, not deep down where it really matters.”

Dis didn’t respond right away, and I thought he wasn’t going to answer. But then he said. “It’s why the Darkfolk call me Father, you know. I didn’t literally sire them, of course, but my kind gave rise to theirs.”

“That’s why you wanted to create Nekropolis, wasn’t it?” I said. “Because it’s a father’s duty to look after his children, to make sure they have a safe place to live.”

Dis smiled fully once more, showing his perfect movie star teeth, but I knew that what I was really looking at was only a mask, a disguise for something so old, so utterly inhuman, that there was no way I could ever hope to understand it.

“You know, Matthew, you’re really quite good at figuring things out. Have you ever considered becoming a detective?”

He laughed, and with that Dis began to fade, like the Cheshire Cat in a purple toga, until he was gone, not even leaving behind so much as a smile.

I picked my way though the rubble above what had been Gregor’s lair, and walked down the steps to the broken sidewalk. Dis had brought me here after restoring my undead body so we could take care of Gregor before he abandoned his hidey hole, but for whatever reasons, the Lord of Nekropolis hadn’t seen fit to provide me with a lift home. Not that I was ungrateful: Dis had already done plenty for me. Still, it was rude to leave a guy stranded-especially when said guy had just saved the whole goddamned city.

I started walking. But I hadn’t gotten more than a block away from Gregor’s when I heard what sounded like a water buffalo moaning in extreme pain coming up behind me, followed by a blat like a strangling trumpeter swan.

I turned and saw a hideous conglomeration of metal barreling down the street toward me. The thing screeched to a stop, and Lazlo hung out the window.

“Sorry it took me so long, Matt, but I had a little trouble getting the old cab running. I ended up having to cobble together a new one from what I could scrounge up in the junkyard-with a technical assist from the folks at the Foundry. I think it turned out pretty good overall, don’t you?”

I walked over to the bent and twisted thing that coughed and shuddered alongside the curb. Not only was it patched together from different pieces of metal, but from swatches of living flesh as well. The hood opened a crack, displaying rows of teeth-some of which were now made out of iron-and I had the impression that the cab was smiling at me.

“This…is a car?”

Lazlo guffawed. “You really kill me sometimes, Matt, you know that?” He shook his head. “’ This is…a car? ’ That’s rich! Come on, hop in!”

I climbed into the passenger seat-once I figured out how to get the door open-and Lazlo said, “Where to, pal?”

“Demon’s Roost,” I answered.